


Nighthawks

by ironiclittlebaby



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: 80's Music, Accidental Voyeurism, Agoraphobia, Alternate Universe, And tags are hard, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Happy, Hypochondria, Idk man this one is weird, It's gay just enjoy it, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Sexy Voyeurism, Oh yeah Sal is Arabic in this, Oh yeah there's no mask either, Oneshot, Songfic, This is a weird one to describe?, Ventfic?, fight me about it, look just read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironiclittlebaby/pseuds/ironiclittlebaby
Summary: No one had lived in that apartment in years. Sal knew that for a fact. He knew that because he checked every single day. How couldn’t he? That window was all he could see from his complex. He liked that it was empty. He liked that he could leave his blinds open.And now he had to worry about someone seeing him. And he had to shut them.How obnoxious.(Songfic, Inspired by Nighthawks by The Midnight)





	Nighthawks

Someone had moved into the apartment across the street.

One night, there was nothing but darkness. While Sal was asleep, though, someone had moved in. And he woke up at 7PM to see that red light was pouring out of that once-empty window into the dark winter streets.

No one had lived in that apartment in years. Sal knew that for a fact. He knew that because he checked every single day. How couldn’t he? That window was all he could see from his complex. He liked that it was empty. He liked that he could leave his blinds open.

And now he had to worry about someone seeing him. And he had to shut them.

How obnoxious.

He would miss how his blue lights looked on the empty pavement below. It made him feel better about his current horrific state. He liked to see the shadows of people walk through the cyan glow. He didn’t like seeing the people, though. So maybe this was a blessing in disguise.

The window was the last thing keeping him a part of society, though.

He truly had it all figured out. Sal would order his groceries online and have them dropped at his apartment door. He had his trash picked up biweekly. He ran his own website and could work from home. He never needed to leave or speak to a single soul. He even covered his mirror, so he didn’t even have to look at himself. He had formed his own neon blue utopia.

All alone.

Sal just shrugged it all off. He didn’t need that window anyway.

So he kept his blinds shut. He continued about business as usual. He would wake up at 7PM on the dot, feed the cat, eat breakfast, take an hour-long bath where he would scrub his skin raw, get dressed, and then situate himself in his blue-lit living room, where he would sit and program until 12AM, when he would eat lunch. Then he would watch some of his old VHS tapes he had saved and exercise until 4AM. Then he would eat dinner and feed the cat again. Then he would rest until 7AM, where he would go to bed and repeat the whole routine all over again.

Some people would call it neurotic. He would call it safe.

He didn’t even notice the blinds being closed after a while. He got used to it. His apartment felt smaller, sure. But it also felt a bit more secure. He wasn’t going to complain. He was going to try hard not to. There was a part of him that truly did wonder how the person with the red lights was doing. He didn’t catch a glimpse of him the night he shut the blinds. He didn’t want to see them.

But maybe he also did. Maybe it gnawed on him a little bit. Maybe he wanted to put a face to the red lights. Maybe he wanted to see who would move in there after years of no one.

He did end up seeing them. Accidentally.

One night, there was music. Loud music. Heavy music. Nothing like Sal would play in his apartment. His music was soft. Piano. Synth. Liquid nostalgia. The neighbor’s music, the apartment across the street music? It was aggressive. Guitar. Screaming. A brute force. It caught Sal off guard. Especially since it was almost his lunch time. Most people should be asleep by now. That was the point.

But he supposed the neighbor wasn’t, for some horrific reason. And his curiosity finally got the better of him. He wanted to know where that terrifying music was coming from. He had been trying to set up a movie. He had been speaking the words along with the actors in _Dirty Dancing._ But that was interrupted now. And he had too much of a reason to look.

So he pried open the blinds just barely with two boney fingers. Just enough to sneak a peek. Just enough for one eye to look. No more than that. He was surprised to see that the other apartment had no curtains, no blinds, nothing. It was open to the world. And it was a bright scarlet. And it had a resident. A real, human person.

It was a boy. His age. Early twenties. And he was dancing. He was jumping around on his sofa, thrashing his long hair back and forth. Just seeing him made Sal’s head start to pound. His chest was screaming. But he couldn’t turn away. This man seemed so carefree, so full of life. He was spinning and headbanging and bouncing on his furniture to his heart’s content.

Sal still despised the music. But he despised it a little less than before.

Sal ended up getting lost in watching him. He stood there through his entire lunch hour, just watching this guy dance around and pump his fist in the air. When he had finally exuded all his energy around 1:30AM, the guy turned down his music – not off, down – and started to nurse a bong in his lap while watching a movie.

He just couldn’t seem to turn away. There was something so magnetic about this person. Something so…out of place. Something that didn’t feel normal. Sal usually felt nauseated looking at people. People made him feel so gross and degraded and petrified. But maybe it was the fact that the other one couldn’t see him. Maybe it was because he was safe behind the blinds. But he didn’t feel scared to look at him.

So he kept looking.

He made his own lunch, very late, and ate it while peering through the window. He could barely make out what was on the TV, but he could tell it was some classic old black and white film. He didn’t understand how someone can listen to music and watch a movie at the same time. The dialogue was so important. How could you just ignore it?

The boy must have fallen asleep on his couch, because the movie played through into another and another and the music was never turned off. It was 6:30AM before Sal even knew it, and he rushed to finish his chores and get to bed on time. His cat was fed, his clothes were changed, and he was under the sheets just as the clock struck 7AM.

He had trouble sleeping that night. He usually did. That’s why he gave himself twelve hours. But it was worse that night.

He had seen a person and hadn’t looked away.

He had seen a person.

The next evening, he woke up right at 7PM. And it took every ounce of self-control he had not to rush to the window. He stuck to his routine the best that he could. But when lunchtime hit and all his work was done, he adjusted one of the kitchen chairs against the window and curled up with his food and gently pulled down one singular blind just enough to be able to look.

He was hit with bloody light again, but this time it was much more quiet. The guy was just sitting there on his couch. He was eating, too. And he was just watching TV. And that was it.

Sal watched it like it was the most entertaining thing he had ever seen in his life.

The next night, the guy sat working on his laptop. The next, he danced around again. The next one he did some painting, the next he watched another movie. He always seemed to accidentally fall asleep by three or four in the morning. But he seemed to be a night owl too. He seemed to thrive in the witching hours, just like Sal. In the dark and the doom in the gloom, he was so tangible and full of vitality. 

Sal couldn’t look away.

His responsibilities seemed to slip. He fell behind on laundry. His dishes piled in the sink. His exercise routine started to fade into just a memory. The one thing that always stayed consistent, though, was the times. Wake up at seven. In bed by seven. No matter what the other man was doing.

He noticed that he was always alone.

It made Sal feel less alone.

He was tempted to roll open his blinds. He was tempted to start to open them. Just so it was a little easier to look. He reached up a couple times to play with the string, tempted to twist it every single time. But something held him back. He stuck to just his eyes.

One night, though, the man happened to look up from his laptop and made direct eye-contact with Sal. For the first time in years, someone looked at him. And he couldn’t handle it. He spit out his food, jerked back and let go of his crack in the blinds. His hands were shaking. He dropped and shattered his plate, scaring his cat and making it run into the bedroom. He gripped onto his own shirt, breathing hard.

His mind was spinning.

Maybe the guy hadn’t seen him.

But maybe he had.

What if he had?

With trembling hands and jelly legs, he started to sweep up his broken plate and taking deep breaths. He was close to crying, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. He had no proof he had been seen. But he felt it. He definitely felt it.

He didn’t sleep at all that day. Not for single second. He laid there, for the whole twelve hours, staring at his ceiling, blinking like crazy. His blue hair was spread out around him like a halo. He was heavy, sinking into the mattress and feeling devoured.

He got up and ate and fed his cat and bathed like normal. He worked. He ate his lunch. He pretended like he wasn’t exhausted and pretended like the blinds weren’t the most tempting thing in the entire universe. He broke around one in the morning, though. He couldn’t handle it.

So he quietly and slowly lowered a singular blind.

And found out that the other guy had rearranged his living room. His TV was now in full view of the window. And everything was angled just so. Sal could see everything now. Nothing was a mystery.

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

The other guy’s apartment was surprisingly bare compared to Sal’s. Sal’s was a blue and pink and green mishmash, an underwater retro palace. The other guy’s apartment was bare. All red. All brown and red and plain. It was simple. It was odd.

Sal started to leave his blinds cracked. Not open. But cracked. And he would glance – not stare – at the boy sometimes. Sometimes he would be reading. Sometimes he would be painting. No matter what he was doing, Sal made sure to be doing something too. It the other person was working, Sal was working. If he was watching TV, Sal would watch it to. They were both fully aware of each other, but barely looking at each other. Sal had never felt less alone. It was beautiful and terrifying.

He opened the blinds a bit wider. Slowly, but surely, his apartment was becoming more exposed. That was when he started to notice the other guy pausing in front of his window to stare. Every time he saw this out of the corner of his eye, he would turn around and only show his back to the window. But he could _feel_ the eyes on his back. And he could _feel_ his space being picked over.

The other person started to sleep in his living room full time. Sal didn’t go that far. But he certainly wasn’t holding back. He ate his meals in front of the window now.

One night, Sal turned around and happened to notice that the guy was standing there. He was by the window. And he was just watching. Sal felt an odd burst of courage. He took a few steps forward, just far back enough from the window so that he couldn’t see his face. But just close enough. The other boy raised his hand slowly, and waved. Sal felt a lump in his throat. He started to twitch. He also raised his hand slowly, and waved back.

That seemed to satisfy the other guy. He perked up. And he swayed a little.

That happened a few more times throughout the night. Sal would be doing _something –_ dusting his fake plants, organizing his records, changing the lightbulbs, polishing his neon signs – and he would turn around to see the other guy looking. And then he would wave. And Sal would wave back.

The guy stayed up until 7AM that night. He was stretching and yawning, but he refused to sleep. He waited. Sal and him exchanged waves one last time before he went into his windowless bedroom.

And the next night was the same. And the other guy seemed to catch on to Sal’s patterns now. They started to approach the window in synth, accidentally. Waving in unison. Then walking away to continue their nights.

One Monday, Sal opened his front door at 7:30PM to pick up his groceries in the orange twilight. On top of his delivered groceries was a single red stationary card. He got sweaty just looking at it. He dragged everything inside and deadbolted his door, leaning against it and sliding onto his hardwood floor.

He stared at the outside of the card for a few minutes, trying to debate on whether he wanted to open it. He obviously knew where it came from. And he didn’t know if that made it scarier or not. After too much internal tangling dialogue, he just rolled his eyes and flipped it open.

         _Hey. I like your lights. I like your taste in movies. You seem cool. This is my email if you want to talk:[larryj3030@tmail.com](mailto:larryj3030@tmail.com)_

_-Larry (that one guy across the street)_

Larry.

He knew his name now.

He put away his groceries and hopped into the bath, thinking while he scrubbed his skin harshly. Larry wanted to email with him. He had never emailed with someone like that before. He had never talked with _anyone_ like that before. And why did Larry even want to talk with him? He didn’t even know Sal’s name. How could he potentially even benefit from this? He had no clue.

But he kind of wanted to try it.

He waited a few days. He closed his blinds again. He had to build up courage. He had to figure out how to start a conversation. He ended up researching online the best opening lines. He rewatched a few movies to see how people introduced themselves to each other. But he couldn’t find anything he liked. So he sent an email impulsively around midnight one evening with the simplest and least-provocative thing he could think of.

         _“Hello.”_

He sent it then hid under his covers in his bedroom, where he couldn’t see if Larry was going to deliberately ignore him or not.

To his surprise, it didn’t take long for him to get a ping back.

         **“Hey, dude! I started to think you would never message. When you closed your blinds, I thought I had totally fucked up.”**

Sal cringed at that.

         “ _I’m sorry. I haven’t done this before.”_

Was he answering to quickly? He couldn’t tell. He was too scared to go to the window and see.

         **“Done what? Email?”**

“ _Not email. But email someone.”_

**“Oh, cool! Glad I’m your first then. I’m Larry, by the way. In case you forgot.”**

Sal bit down hard on his lip.

         “ _I’m Sal.”_

Ping.

         “ **Sal. I like that. Is it short for anything?”**

“ _Yes.”_

**“…okay, what for?”**

 **“** _Saleem.”_

**“I like that! That’s cool. Larry is short for Lawrence. A lot more boring than Saleem, I know.”**

_“I don’t think so.”_

It was true. He didn’t think so.

         “ **That’s sweet of you, but you don’t have to flatter me. The name is from my dad’s side. It’s hella boring. So, Sal. If you don’t mind me asking…why are you up all night? Like do you ever sleep?”**

Of course they were going to jump right into the hard questions.

         _“I do sleep. During the day. I work at night.”_

**“From your apartment?”**

_“Yes.”_

_**“**_ **So you’re nocturnal by choice?”**

_“Yes.”_

**“That’s pretty cool. Can I ask why?”**

This was the hard one to answer. This was the scary one to answer.

         _“I’m agoraphobic.”_

He pressed send.

Ping.

**“I had to look that up. I get it now. I’m melissophobic. Which totally isn’t the same thing but I’m trying to let you know that you don’t have to be ashamed of that with me. Or whatever.”**

         _“That is nice of you.”_

**“Is there any reason you’re scared? Or has it just always been this way? Again, totally don’t feel pressured to answer. I just feel like these are all things I have a right to ask since we’re window buddies now.”**

_“Window buddies?”_

**“You stared at me, I stared back, we both stare all the time. It’s kind of our thing.”**

Their thing. Sal’s face and neck flushed at the thought.

         _“Fair enough.”_

**“So why are you scared?”**

Sal unconsciously ran his fingers over his mangled face.

         “ _Because people were scared of me first. Also germs. Germs are scary.”_

**“So you’re a hypochondriac too?”**

_“Probably.”_

**“Why are all the lights in your apartment blue?”**

_“Because it hides the color red. Why are all the lights in your apartment red?”_

**“Because red is my favorite color. But blue is cool too.”**

Sal shifted around on his couch.

         “ _Red isn’t cool.”_

“ **I’m sorry I’m not cool.”**

_“You’re cool. Red isn’t.”_

**“I’m cool?”**

Sal closed his eyes. He was feeling very embarrassed now.

 _“_ _I think so. Your music and movies seem cool.”_

“ **You calling me cool means more than you know. Especially since your apartment looks much cooler than mine.”**

Larry and him emailed back and forth the entire evening. The next night, Sal holed up in his bedroom and did the same. And the next one too. On the fourth night, Larry had a request.

         “ **Do you want to email where I can see you?”**

“ _Why?”_

**“So it can feel like we’re actually talking.”**

Sal sat by the window, blinds open, praying that Larry didn’t have good eyesight. Praying that the lights would silhouette him. Perhaps Larry would be so busy typing he wouldn’t even look up. Maybe the red lights from the other apartment would drown out his own lights and Larry would only see black. Anything to keep him from seeing him.

But Sal could see Larry clearly. The long hair falling around him, his muscle shirt, his broad shoulders. Sal could see him. Not perfectly. But he could see enough to where he knew Larry could probably see him. And it made him a little sick.

**“You’re really pretty.”**

Sal felt his face heat up. He looked down at the email, then back up at Larry, and then down again.

         “ _I don’t know how to respond to that.”_

**“I’m sorry. Was I too forward?”**

_“I don’t know. I just haven’t really talked to anyone in a really long time. I don’t know how to respond to stuff like that.”_

**“I’m sorry.”**

_"Don’t be.”_

**“Would you ever send me a picture of yourself?”**

Sal started to shake his head in a panic before he even typed out a response.

         _“You don’t want to see me. It’s not pretty.”_

**“I doubt that. But I won’t pressure you. Would you be okay if I sent you a picture of me? Just so you know what I actually look like.”**

That didn’t seem too bad. This couldn’t be too bad.

_"If you want.”_

Larry was stunning.

That’s the only way Sal could put it.

He was odd. And out of place. Is that what everyone looked like now? Who knows. He didn’t look like anyone in the films. He looked a little sideways. But it was a good sideways. And it was a pretty sideways. And it was a sideways that Sal wanted more pictures of. The window didn’t do him justice.

         _“I like the way you look.”_

That was all Sal could manage to say.

         **“I like the way you look, too.”**

“ _You don’t know that.”_

**“I do.”**

Sal looked up and made eye contact with Larry. Both of them froze for a second, and that’s when Sal realized for the first time that the street under their apartments looked violet under their lights.

         “ _I know I said red isn’t cool. And it isn’t. But red makes sense for you.”_

**“Because I’m not cool?”**

_“No. It’s hard to explain. But you are red.”_

**“Blue makes sense for you. You’re really chill. And out there. I like it. You’re really weird. I dig it.”**

Sal had to read it a couple times.

          “ _Weird is good?”_

**“Weird is perfect.”**

Sal smiled and sat up straighter.

          “ _Thank you, Larry.”_

         **“Do you think we could ever talk on the phone?”**

Sal couldn’t tell if this was a dream come true or a living nightmare.

They sat across from each other, window to window, blue to red. Each of them had their big, bulky landlines in their hands.

Larry was the one to call him. Sal nearly jumped out of his skin at how loud the ring was. He had almost forgotten what it sounded like. He answered it quickly, maybe too quickly, but then sat in silence forgetting how to start a conversation. Larry stayed silent too. He didn’t rush him.

After a few minutes, Sal walked over to the window and waved. “Hi.” He whispered into the receiver.

“Hey!” Larry boomed back. It made Sal jump. “Shit, sorry. I scared you. Hey.” He lowered his voice. “I just got excited.” Sal could see him sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

Sal moved over to sit on his couch, pulling his legs under him. “It’s okay.” His voice sounded so small compared to Larry’s. It made him _feel_ small.

“I’m proud of you. For trying to call.” He said. His voice was deeper than Sal had imagined.

“You don’t sound like how I thought you would.” Sal’s voice cracked.

“Oh?” He chuckled. “How did you think I would sound?” He flopped onto his own sofa.

“I don’t know.” He spoke softly. “Maybe like Patrick Swayze.”

"Who do I actually sound like?”

“I don’t know, but someone with a deep voice.”

“You have a deep voice too.”

Sal shook his head. “It’s not deep, it’s sore. I…I don’t talk. Really.”

“You don’t talk?” Larry sounded amused. “Not even to your cat?”

“Barely. I, um…I talk when I watch movies. I’ll talk along with them.”

“That’s adorable.”

Sal buried his face into his hands.

“Do you know all the words? To all your favorites?”

“Yeah…”

 “What’s your favorite?” He asked.

Sal glanced over at his pile of tapes on his shelf. “ _E.T_.”

 He could hear Larry’s smile in his voice. “I like _E.T._ too.”      

Sal, with a guiding hand from Larry, survived an entire conversation. It was only a few minutes long, but it was the most exhilarating thing he had done in his whole life. They talked about movies the entire time. Larry knew almost every single one Sal spoke of. He didn’t know _Flight of the Navigator_ , though. Or _Timerider_. But he knew _Modern Girls_ and _Pretty in Pink_ , and that’s what mattered.

“It’s been too long.” Sal looked at his neon wall clock. “I have to go. I need to clean.”

“Can we talk again? Tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Sal nodded. “Yes please.”

“Okay. Awesome.” Larry laughed. “Tomorrow. I’ll call you around midnight?”

“That’s perfect.” He was practically beaming.

“Okay. I’ll see you at midnight.”

“Bye, Larry.”

“Good night.”

 The nights that followed were full of the same thing. Quick little phone calls, that slowly turned into hour-long chatterfests. Once Sal started to talk, he just couldn’t stop. It felt so freeing to be able to finally tell someone everything he had been thinking for years. Why he was vegan, how bathes are scientifically better than showers, which movies were best, and every single thought inbetween. Larry was a wonderful listener. He made Sal feel so welcome.

“You’ve turned me into a nocturnal animal, dude.” Larry said one night. “I think the people at work are starting to get worried about me. They wonder why I’m up so late.”

“You don’t have to stay up with me.”

Larry let out a loud laugh. “Yes I do! You’re my window buddy. I have to catch up with you. Best friends talk daily, that’s a rule.”

Sal felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. “…best friends?”

“Yeah.” Larry suddenly had an edge of fear in his voice. “Was that too much?”

“No.” Sal felt an uncontrollable smile growing on his face. He tiptoed barefoot over to the window, where he saw Larry’s scarlet silhouette staring back. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

“You know, your voice is getting stronger." He went silent for a moment. "Can we video chat?” Larry asked, hesitation etched all throughout his voice. “I-I know you don’t want me seeing your face. You can tape over your camera if you want. But…I just want to talk to you. Like really talk to you. Face to face, metaphorically.”

Sal bite down hard on his lip. “You want to? Actually?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, of course. That’s why I’m asking, Sal.”

Sal paused for a moment. He really, really liked the way his name sounded out loud. “Oh…okay. I can try.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

Larry had sent Sal an email with a link to a site they could chat on. He made it very explicit that Sal could hang up on him without any warning, as soon as he felt uncomfortable. He wouldn’t be offended. And he wouldn’t feel bothered if Sal kept his camera covered the entire time.

 But Sal didn’t want to cover his camera.

 Well, he did. But he didn’t.

 He really didn’t.

 He would give it a try.

 It had been over a year since he had uncovered his mirror in his bathroom. He ripped the sheet of in one fluid motion, like a band-aid over a gushing wound. He jerked back at the sight of himself – not because he was horrified, but because he was shocked. His hair looked much, much longer than he had thought it was. It was down to his chest, choppy and blue, and he couldn’t understand how on earth it had grown so quickly. He took a second to brush through his hair, trying to figure out how it’s supposed to lay. How does it work? How does any of this work?

 He gave up on his hair pretty quickly. Larry had long hair too. Maybe he just wouldn’t care. Instead he started to focus on the part that gave him the most anxiety: his face. His mutilated, his twisted, his disgusting face. It was stained red and pink, which was far less noticeable in the blue lights. It was asymmetrical, it was cracked, it was hard to look at. Sal almost started to tear up at the sight.

What would Larry think?

He would find out soon. If he didn’t chicken out. If he didn’t throw up or cry.

He positioned his computer _just_ far enough away. Close enough to get his face in the frame. Far enough away to where you couldn’t see each individual line in his skin. Close enough to make it worth it. Far enough away to where he wouldn’t have a heart attack and die on the spot.

Larry was the one to send him the chat link.

Sal clicked it then scooted away.

The screen lit up, and there was Larry, sitting in his red bedroom with his red lights, looking expectantly at the screen. “Woah! Hey, dude.” He paused for a second. “You look really pretty. I…didn’t expect you to show your face. But I’m really happy you did.”

Sal couldn’t find the guts to respond. All he knew is that Larry didn’t flinch when he saw him. He didn’t look away.

“Too scary?”

Sal nodded.

“You can hang up at any time.” He said. “And you don’t have to talk! I can ramble for a while. That’s easy for me.”

That’s exactly what happened. And Sal learned a lot about Larry. Larry was a painter. And also worked at a smoke shop. Larry was an only child. He moved here from a town far away. He liked the color red because it was bright and warm. He said that Sal had a red heart, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Towards the end of the conversation, Sal finally found the strength to respond. “I think this is fun.”

Larry couldn’t have smiled wider if he tried. “That makes me so happy.”

They talked every single night for a month.

Their window had become portable. They got to see each other's bedrooms. And kitchens. Larry got to meet Sal's cat. And Sal got to see Larry's entire cassette collection. They watched movies together by starting them at the same time. They made food together, and cleaned together. A bright red screen, moving around the house as if someone was there. Sal had never been happier.

“I’m going to ask something really big of you.” Larry said one night. “And I understand if you say no and I totally won’t be offended. Okay?”

Sal nodded.

“I want to come over. To your place. And meet you.”

His jaw dropped.

Larry started to ramble. “I know you can’t come to mine and I know that this is a big deal but we’ve been talking for a while now and I just really want to finally be able to see you and I’ll do everything I can to make it okay and I also want to hug you and-“

 “Larry?” Sal interrupted him with a whisper. “You want to come over?”

 He nodded like a hyper child.

 “Like really?”

”Yes.”

Sal looked down at his hands. “Will…will you hate me? When you see me? In real life?”

“God, no!” Larry cried. “That’s, like, impossible. I couldn’t hate you.”

Sal turned to look out the window. He could see Larry sitting on his couch. Larry turned towards him a moment after. They both stared at each other through the windows, breathing hard.

He turned back to his laptop. “Okay. Fine.”

Sal stared at himself in the mirror. He had thrown his hair up into a tight ponytail, exposing his face fully to himself for the first time. But he looked good. It made his jawline look strong. Larry wore a ponytail sometimes. Maybe he would like it. He wore a simple shirt and simple jeans. He didn’t have anything nicer. He hoped Larry would think it looked good. He hoped people still looked like this.

Larry would be here any second.

He would be meeting someone any second.

Larry had agreed to come at night. He had learned Sal’s schedule by now to the letter. He was coming at midnight. And he already been warned of some of Sal’s ticks: no shoes in the house. Wash your hands before touching anything. Shower before coming. And Sal was a vegan. So don’t expect anything else when it came to food.

He heard the knock on his door and came running from his bathroom, nearly slipping in his socks and tripping over his cat. He skidded in front of the entrance way, his heart fluttering. He paused outside the door, his hand resting on the knob. “L-Larry?” He voice squeaked out.

“Yeah.” He sounded so excited.

Sal got onto his tip toes and looked out of the peephole with one eye. There he was. He was real. Larry was tangible and human and right behind this very door.

Sal closed his eyes and turned the knob.

“Hey, Sal.”

He opened his eyes.

Larry was much, much, much taller than Sal had prepared for. Sal barely came up to his shoulder. He had to look up to see him. It made his heart skip a beat. Larry was also much more _textured_ in person. His nose was large. His brows were fuzzy. His teeth had a gap. His scruff was unorganized. His hair stuck out all over the place. His clothes were spiked and studded and looked interesting to touch. It was very odd. But it was very _real._

The part Sal was most focused on was Larry’s eyes. They were bright. And shiny. A brownish gold, tinted darker with the moon and Sal’s blue lights. They were full of life. Full of something exciting. They had an amber tint to them. Another bit of red again Sal’s own blue eyes. Just more red against his blue.

Not against his blue.

To match his blue.

“Hi.” Larry smiled crookedly, holding out a large hand to shake Sal’s. “It’s nice to finally properly meet you.” His eyes widened. “I promise I used hand sanitizer before coming and I didn’t touch the stair rails.”

His hand was shaking as he reached out to tentatively touch Larry’s. His whole body shivered from the contact. Skin felt different than he remembered. It was rougher. More calloused. Or maybe that was just Larry. He hadn’t done anything like this in years. He looked up, his eyes making contact with Larry’s, and he allowed his face to crack into a small smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest: I don't know exactly what this is. But I was feeling some type of way and got this song stuck in my head so now we're here. Enjoy it, I guess.


End file.
